


Appetites

by caras_galadhon (Galadriel)



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Drunkenness, Established Relationship, Football | Soccer, Hooliganism, M/M, Sports, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-04-27
Updated: 2009-04-27
Packaged: 2017-11-14 06:54:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/512536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galadriel/pseuds/caras_galadhon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The evening has served up nothing but disappointment for Sean, but Viggo's scent is all he needs to awaken more pleasing appetites.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Appetites

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Empy (Empyreus)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Empyreus/gifts).



> For Halloween, I offered to write ficlets for people who "knocked" on [my virtual!door](http://caras-galadhon.livejournal.com/390087.html). Unfortunately, I am terribly behind, and only starting to move forward with them now. This one is for [](http://empy.livejournal.com/profile)[**empy**](http://empy.livejournal.com/); it's not what I'd planned to write for her, but... she'll understand. Additionally, my thanks to [](http://savageseraph.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://savageseraph.livejournal.com/)**savageseraph** , First Among Fishes, Best of the Betas, who always makes my writing better.

[ ](http://community.livejournal.com/sons_of_gondor/661411.html)

Viggo smelled good.

He always smelled good, Sean reflected, but he smelled especially good right now, spiced warmth wrapped up in sheets and blankets, snoring gently even as Sean slipped in behind and carefully fitted himself against Viggo's body.

He breathed in Viggo's scent, the sharp-smoothness a comfort after the day he'd had. Maybe most of the world expected it, but Sean always found himself a little maudlin after a loss by the Blades. True fans didn't abandon their boys, not even in the low times, and Sean wasn't going to go back on his allegiances now.

Yet after the afternoon Bramhall had just seen, there was nothing to it except to apply alcohol, both quickly and liberally. He'd wandered down to a nearby pub with a couple of his mates, expecting a pint or two to take a bit of the edge off before he wound his way home to wallow in solitary misery. Seemed he wasn't the only one in a foul mood; the hooligans were more stirred up than usual, and far too many of the punters were shoving their way through the queue for the loo, already liquored up, bladders full to bursting. It was enough to convince Sean to slip out the back way and have a quiet piss in the lane.

Sean rubbed at his hand, clumsily bandaged and still stinging from the scratches. He supposed he'd been lucky the man he'd encountered in the dark of the lane had been slowed by drink and who knows what else, or the scuffle might've ended with a trip to the hospital. He'd come out of nowhere, a stinking mass of filthy rags, lurching and groaning, jostling Sean's arm and causing him to spatter urine on his shoes.

Sean had barked at him even as he gave him a good shove in return, a moment of respite that let him tuck himself back in and zip up before the prat came stumbling back towards him. He was a tenacious little bastard, that was for certain, and he gripped Sean's arm with a surprising strength. His mouth opened wide, wet and stinking of damp, rotting mushrooms squelched underfoot. God knows what he wanted; the look in his eyes was nothing Sean had seen before, a wildness to the dilated pupils that fixed themselves on Sean's face. Repulsed, Sean yelled and pushed the bum away with some difficulty, kicking his legs out from under him and shaking off his hold. He felt the man's ragged nails rake across his skin before he saw the blood well up, but the red against white lit a fire in his brain, and he gave the bum a sharp kick in the side before he escaped back into the confines of the pub. It was enough to have him cutting the evening short, and he left his mates to their drinks and started his own slow way home.

As it was, a quick scrape across the back of his hand was a small hurt, something that could be easily dealt with with a bit of antiseptic and a length of gauze or two. He hadn't lost a limb or his wallet, and while the slurring, shuffling bum had smelled like he'd clawed his way out of the grave, Sean's nostrils were resilient, especially when filled with the scent of Viggo.

He slid his arm around Viggo's middle, glorying in the slight shift of Viggo's body; even asleep, he curled into Sean as if drawn by magnets. Sean kissed his shoulder, the taste of Viggo's skin tingling on his lips, begging him to swipe at salt and sweat with the flat of his tongue. Sean smiled. He hadn't thought the drink had affected him that much, but it was as if he could smell Viggo's dreams, wisps of thought spiralling, curling up from the whorls of his brain. He inhaled deeply, drawing the warmth of those embers of ideas into his lungs. It was enough to make his mouth water, memories of Viggo's taste prickling at his tastebuds.

Enough to make him ignore the tingling of his hand. Enough to tease and feed the hunger curling low and tight in his abdomen.

Enough to make him want to bite down on Viggo's shoulder, taste his blood and flesh and thought and feeling in a rush of warm willing wetness.

Sean groaned. Viggo always smelled so good.


End file.
